Lyra Alone
by lovelyducks
Summary: What might happen if she could see Will again.
1. Chapter 1

I have recently made a terrifying discovery. There is no Lyra/Will smut on Don't worry, folks. Lovely to the rescue.

Um…it's AU. No daemons. Sorry, but I didn't want to write about an pine marten and a cat fucking on the bedside table. Not exactly my taste.

This is my first fan fiction and my first smut, so wish me luck. Reviews, positive and negative, are welcome.

BTW, if anyone actually knows what daeomons do during sex, let me know.

"Lyra Alone"

Lyra rolled onto her back and stared at the rain streaked window of her dormitory. It had been a long day, a hard test, a paper to write, and lunch with a friend, but a day well spent. Her limbs felt heavy, and the thought of ever leaving that warm bed was far away.

It was nights like these, nights that left her with a lazy sort of contentment, that she indulged. She lifted her hips and pulled her shapeless night gown up to her navel. Her hand drifted towards her sex and her mind towards familiar fantasies.

She had a few standards. One with Will in the dark woods, one where Will, by divine inspiration, could see her like this, and one where the finger he drove into her again and again, tortuously slow, had a wedding band around it. On that rainy night, Lyra opted for her favorite.

A moan rose in her throat, and she had to choke it down. The walls of the dorm were thin, and if anybody heard, she didn't know what she'd do. But that didn't stop her from bucking against her mattress.

Something hit her window, and in consumed by her own body heat, she ignored it. But the glass was struck again, harder this time, and then again. Lyra pulled her hand away, panting, trying to build the will power it would take to get up. She stood, pulled her night gown down, and licked her hand clean.

She opened the window, letting the rain beat against her forearms, and peered into the light.

"Lyra," said a voice from below.

She looked down and into his face. For a moment, both were silent.

"Can I come up?" he called.

She tried to speak, but nothing would come out. She nodded fiercely.

He hooked his feet into the trellis two stories below, crushing climbing rose buds under him.

"Will, be careful. Don't fall."

"I'm not going to. Don't worry."

His voice had changed. It wasn't just that he sounded hoarse, it was deeper, more musical, than she remembered. He wasn't a boy anymore, just as she wasn't a girl. And as he climbed closer, she could see that his body had changed too. His shoulders were broader now, and bristly hair grew on his chin.

But besides that, he was Will. He was the Will she'd fallen in love with, the Will she would have spent her life with, the Will who she knew she'd never see again, the Will she'd have to go on living without. And that same, distant dream Will, was climbing, with more devotion in his eyes than any Romeo could ever possess, towards her bedroom window.

She grabbed him by the wrists, and helped pull him into her room.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her arms tight around his waist. He pulled her closer and enjoyed the sweet smell of her hair. The linen of her night gown soaked in the rain and the muck from his foreign clothes, and his sweat shirt soaked in her tears. He shushed her, and rubbed her back.

Lyra pulled back, and wiped away her tears with a ferocity that he remembered well. But it did no good. She shook her head, and said, "I missed you" and the tears flowed harder than ever.

"I missed you too."

She sucked in a breath, and this time, she was really done. "Are you back for good?"

He smile a weary smile. "I think so."

"And the Dust, it won't―"

"No. I think I found the loop hole." He took her hand. "It might be hard for us, for a little while, but I think I've figured it out."

"Thank God," she whispered.

He was taller now, and to kiss him, Lyra had to shift onto the balls of her feet. For balance she grabbed him arm, and she felt him shudder under her lips. Without asking permission, she pulled back the sleeve of his sweat shirt to find a raw wound.

"Oh no." She turned her concerned eyes on him. "Was it hard getting here?"

He smiled wryly. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Sit down. I'll take care of everything."

He obeyed. "Thank you."

She knelt before him and cleaned the wound with hot water and rough soap, bound it with a white sock and a safety pin, and kissed it for luck. He sat silently on the bed and watched her work, reveling in every familiar gesture and habit.

"You're soaking wet."

"I'm probably ruining your sheets."

"Do you have anything you can change into?"

"No."

For a second they were quiet, judging each other's expressions.

Will started to blush. "I mean, it's fine. I can sleep in this. It's not so bad."

"I don't want you to get sick."

"I won't get si―"

"Will," she said forcefully.

"Yeah?"

Wordlessly, she stood, and lifted the shirt above his head, careful not to disrupt the bandage. With the same fingers that had felt her heat, she traced a line from his belly button to his jaw. Heat ran up his spine, and he shuddered against her lips.

She pulled away with an enigmatic smile. "You don't have to act modest around me."

"It's just…" He lowered his gaze. "your clothes are as wet as mine, and I know if I see you naked…I just want to save it until I'm a little more rested. So I can enjoy it."

"Mine aren't as wet as yours. I'll stay dressed, but you shouldn't."

He stood. "You're right. I'm being stupid." He kicked off his shoes and socks and let his jeans drop around his ankles. He sat down quickly and crossed his legs.

Lyra couldn't help but notice the bulge in his boxers, and wondered if she had anything to do with it. Heat rose between her legs.

She sat down next to him. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"All I want now is sleep."

There was no question that they would be sharing a bed for the first time. She nodded. On a pillow that smelled like Lyra, between sheets that had seen Lyra's passion, wrapped in an embrace too tender to be anyone but Lyra, Will smiled and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I just got The Science of His Dark Materials. Word.

Lyra never slept later than seven. If it had been any other Saturday, she would have dashed down to the communal shower, dressed in a dress cut above the knee for the sheer joy of breaking dress code, tied a red ribbon in her hair, and gone into town for brunch with her classmates. But that morning, with Will on the pillow besides her, there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

He was sleeping on his side, facing her, his face as calm as an empty lake in July. His body, almost naked, was only inches away, his skin hot against hers. Maybe because he felt her watching him, or maybe because his schedule was similar to Lyra's he opened his eyes.

"Good morning," she cooed.

He wound an arm around her waist, and pulled her into a kiss. Her curves fit into his body perfectly, as if she were made to be in a lover's embrace. Through boxer and night gown, she could feel his hard cock against her womanhood, and neither made any objection. His eight fingers threaded through her hair, and his tongue delved into her mouth. She moaned into him and arched his back, her nipples rubbing into his chest.

With a mischievous smile, she pulled away from him. "Do you think you could enjoy it now?"

For a second, he didn't know what she was talking about, and then his eyes darted down to her chest, her nipples visible through the thick fabric. "Yeah."

She pushed the covers away and settled in the middle of the mattress. Will propped himself up, anticipating the view. It's times like those, when an inch becomes a great distance. Her skirt seemed an endless sea, keeping her virgin body from him. She hoisted the hem above her head and tossed the gown to the corner of the room.

And there was Lyra, naked as the day she was born, her nipples rosy peaks, her stomach long and tensed, her hair mussed as if he'd already fucked her, her lips pulled into that coy smile, knowing for the first time, that she could make his breath hitch, his cock twitch. She knew that he was hers, body and soul.

He all but pounced, and her back was on the bed again, Will on top of her, his kisses desperate. A tentative hand, his good one, found her breast. She moaned into his mouth, as his thumbs found her nipples, rubbing in soft, unrelenting circles. He sucked her tender neck until there was a red spot, and cupped her ass with his bad hand. Lyra was lost in him, his body all around her, touching her in places she'd never been touched before.

Like a cat in heat, she rubbed against his leg. He didn't really need much more encouraging than that. He trailed his bad hand around her hip, enjoying the feel of bone beneath her skin, to her woman hood. It's texture was a bit like the inside of her cheek, but slick with something he could not name. She smelled like rising bread and table salt. Her back arched as he ran his finger along her lips and around her opening. It was lower than he'd expected.

He pushed into her slowly, careful not to damage her. She bucked against him and moaned. Later, when she got her wits about her, she'd liken the feeling to tickling. When you tickle yourself, you feel almost nothing. When it's somebody else, the feeling is explosive. And that it was Will, that he could be her first, lit her soul aflame.

He thrust into her experimentally, but as his confidence grew he thrust more wildly making her wail with pleasure. Her hands clasped behind his back.

If she could still speak at that point, she would have begged her to fuck her, but she had lost all control of her voice, and no words came to her. She clawed at her boxers.

"It's going to hurt," he growled in her ear. "I don't want to hurt you."

She shook her head and hugged him closer.

His hips lifted from the mattress. Pulling them down and kicking them into the corner was a joint effort. Their lips never separated. The feeling of his head just outside excited her, and she lifted her hips to meet him.

The stretching burned and for a minute, she was sure it would never end, that he would feed more and more into her. Lyra clenched her teeth. But it did end, and they were closer than they'd ever been. The pain was nothing compared to the loneliness.

He rocked into her, and pleasure cut through the hurt. He did it again, and then again. They built up a rhythm, rocking against each other until sweat dripped onto the sheets. She let out a strangled wail and pumped against him. He picked up the pace, pushing her into the mattress. Their dance increased in tempo until both were crying out, the sounds of their lovemaking loud enough to be heard in every room on the floor. His hands found her breast again, and he pinched hard on her nipples.

Hot seed pumped into her womb, filling her even more. She let out a high scream and her thighs tightened around him as the orgasm swelled around her.

Lyra came as quietly as she always did and licked her fingers out of habit. That was her favorite fantasy, and it was no wonder why. Sometimes she would image what he'd say next, what they'd do after that, but it was too late for that. She turned over on her pillow and pulled the sheets to her chin.

"I love you, Will." 

Only the rain and the night answered.


End file.
